


snow and sky

by kakashihatake123



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8874331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakashihatake123/pseuds/kakashihatake123
Summary: She had never been kissed the way that she was being kissed now. It was hungry, strong, firm even, but the pressure that always seemed to be there when Harrold kissed her was gone. She knew Jon. She knew everything about Jon. From the day she had fallen through the ice on the lake beside Winterfell and he had jumped in after her to the night that he had appeared at her flat, to the way he had cried in her arms the night his father had died. He was Jon. Just Jon.





	

They drove with the windows down because they both liked the cold. After the last two weeks of being pent up inside the library or the café studying for their last finals it was refreshing to feel the cool breeze upon their faces, the coldness sharp enough to make gooseflesh rise on their skin. They took turns in the driver’s seat, Jon gently teasing Sansa with memories of the days he had taught her how to drive manual, Sansa returning the favour when she had flipped through radio stations and discovered that half of the buttons had been programmed to Christmas caroling stations- which Jon had then claimed came preset with the rental car.

They were at ease together, so many years of friendship leaving them completely comfortable together. Sansa wore no makeup, no flattering clothes. Quite the opposite actually- donning a pair of fuzzy wool socks and a shapeless pair of pyjama bottoms, which had incidentally matched the ones that Jon wore.

They sang carols together, they listened to the end of Sansa’s audio book on learning High Valyrian, they were even able to sit in long stretches of silence without feeling even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Sansa was glad to find the trip would not be an awkward one, as it would take two days of almost constant driving to reach Winterfell from King’s Landing.

“What are you reading?” Jon asked.

Sansa frowned. “The blizzard shifted.” She said. “It looks like it’s going to hit a day or two early.”

“We’ll be there soon.” Jon promised, offering a small smile. He turned the knob of the radio so that Frank Sinatra’s _Baby It’s cold Outside_ played louder, knowing it was Sansa’s favourite. “We’ll be home with plenty of time. Maybe your mum will even make us hot chocolates.”

But Jon had been wrong. They had barely even reached the Neck when the blizzard struck- the strongest they had seen in years. It had started out as all winter storms did. The temperature sunk shockingly low, even the burning gust of heater of the car doing little to stave off the chill. Outside of the car the wind nipped sharply, biting at any skin not covered by coat or scarf, and as Jon’s foot pressed down upon the gas pedal Sansa could feel the low vibration of the vehicle from where the wind pushed at it.

She was glad the car rental company had equipped the car with snow tires, the slickness of the roads making her nervous. As night drew closer Jon grew more serious, though he continued to hum along with the Christmas station on the radio in an attempt to assuage Sansa’s nervousness. But she could see his hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles burnished white, the stiffness of his legs clearly uncomfortable, though he did not accept Sansa’s offer to trade places with him.

Night brought even colder temperatures, the thermostat built into the car reflecting that the cold wind had brought the air below zero. Sansa had turned around in her seat to dig her coat out of her suitcase before turning to Jon and laying a scarf over his shoulders and tucking it beneath the collar of his shirt. Sansa laid a long blanket across their laps, hoping the wool and cotton would do much more than it actually did to warm them.

He had even donned his glasses and it was only then that Sansa had truly begun to worry. The thick-framed spectacles had always embarrassed him, for he had always thought that he looked stupid wearing them, though in truth Sansa thought that he bore the same restrained handsomeness Clark Kent did.

“We should stop.” Jon said after a while of driving. Snow swirled across the windshield, chilling the glass so completely that it had begun to fog until Sansa turned the vents toward the glass and away from them.

Sansa agreed, digging around in the side door for her cell but found that it had spent the previous two hours searching for a signal and the battery had been completely drained. “It’s dead.” She said. Jon fished into his pocket and procured his. Sansa’s frown deepened. “So is yours.”

“Do you still have the map?” he asked.

Sansa shook her head. “You spilled coffee on it yesterday.”

He cursed. “There should be a motel around here somewhere.”

It was another hour before they found a street side motel, though they quickly left after the man at the front desk claimed that the heater was broken and Sansa would probably have to remove her clothes to stay cool. Soon after a second motel appeared on a corner of the map Jon had not ruined with coffee and they veered off the road and into the car park.

“This looks decent enough.” Jon commented. But Sansa did not miss the way he stayed close at Sansa’s side as they entered the lobby.

The man at the front desk apologized, though he did not look sorry at all as he rolled their eyes at them. “All the rooms are taken.” He said. “Most people phoned ahead to reserve a room.”

“We _couldn’t_ phone ahead.” Sansa protested. “Our phones were dead. Are you sure you don’t have anything?” she asked. “ _Anything_?”

With another roll of his eye he tapped away at the keys of his computer. “One room.” He commented.

Jon and Sansa exchanged a look. “Could we get a cot?” Jon asked.

“Cots are all taken. By the people who phoned-“

“Fine.” Jon growled. “The room is fine. We’ll take it.”

The room was small but well furnished in the obligatory pastel colours of most motel rooms. But the man at the front desk had been right. There was only one bed. A very, very small bed.

Sansa showered while Jon set to unpack his pyjamas and brush his teeth in the adjoining bathroom, listening to the sound of Sansa’s soft singing from behind the closed bathroom door. He smiled to himself, hearing her do both of the male and female voices of _Baby It’s Cold Outside_.

When he finished his own shower he found Sansa curled on her side of the bed, wrapped in so many blankets that at first he had not even seen her, only the flash of crimson hair clueing him in to the fact that she was not just a pile of coats and blankets.

The telly flickered the scenes from an old Christmas movie Sansa had switched on, the little light that filled the room. There was an aging heater blaring in the corner of the room, the ribbons that had been tied to the vents snapping in the heated air.

He slid into the bed beside her and felt her shift to bring him into the cocoon of blankets. She had layered long sleeved shirt beneath a flannel tunic but her feet were still cold as ice despite the socks drawn up to her knees.

"You can...you can move over a little. I mean there is space over here." Sansa whispered. "You look…uncomfortable."

"I'm fine." he lied.

He was pressed to the other side of the bed, mere centimeters from falling over its edge. There was a large space between them, the cold that filtered through the room seeming to build within the space, causing gooseflesh to ripple down his skin.

When Jon’s voice died away the room lapsed once more into silence, the only sounds being the dull hum of the heater and the rattle of glass as the wind pushed against the windowpanes.

Soon it had been almost an hour since Sansa had shut off the telly, yet neither she nor Jon were any closer to sleep than when they had first laid down. He was acutely aware of the warmth Sansa's body was giving off, the softness of her skin when her leg had accidentally brushed against his.

The clock on the telly stand blared two o'clock in the morning in bright blue letters and through the thin; moth eaten curtains Jon could see the sporadic flashing of the motel's no vacancy sign. They had three blankets pulled over their clothed bodies and yet the cold reached them, chilling Sansa's feet and Jon's fingers and making them pull the blankets high as their noses.

There was a long, metallic whine. Jon jerked awake, shocked into consciousness by the machine-like clangour that filled the small space. The room was bathed in pure darkness. The alarm clock had gone black, the motel sign disappeared, and the sky was so thickly clouded that even the moon offered little solace from the darkness.

Sansa stumbled awake. Clearly disoriented, her voice was thick with confusion as she whispered, "Jon?"

Her fingers had reached toward him and he took her hand with a light squeeze. "I'm here." he promised. Her fingers were icy against his. "I'm here."

He could barely see the outline of her body in the dark, glad for the fingers that tucked between his, as though rooting him to the earth as he struggled to awaken completely.

"What's going on?" she asked. The sound had died away but its memory still left them haunted with confusion.

"I don't know..." he replied, rubbing his eyes.

Her voice seemed disembodied, the darkness so complete that his eyes could not pierce it. "I think...I think the power is out." She continued.

"The heater..." he protested weakly, his teeth chattering.

Jon pushed back the blankets and reached for his coat, stumbling across the room until he found the chair he had hung it upon. "I'll go to the front desk.” He said. “See what's going on."

Sansa was not sure how long had passed before Jon returned, returning to the bed in a hurry and laying something at their feet. He let out a long sigh, burrowing beneath the pile of blankets like a rabbit hidden in a flowerbed. "The blizzard was worse than we thought." he said. "Knocked the power out all the way down the highway. The heater too. The man at the desk gave us another blanket though."

Even though Sansa did not speak Jon could feel her discomfort. "Everything will be fine." he assured. "By the time we wake up the power will be back on and we can get out of here."

"Okay." she agreed, pointedly trying to ignore the way his shivers almost made the bed vibrate.

It took a few minutes to find a comfortable position. Sansa pulled on a second- then a third- pair of socks and pulled her sweater up to her neck while Jon arranged the blankets and laid their heavy coats on top, hoping the garments would add even just the slightest bit of warmth. The space between them in the bed seemed to have grown more cavernous; cold enough to seem like snow should be building up within it.

No matter how tightly Jon wound himself in the blankets he could not escape it. And Sansa shivered, despite the blankets and the coats and the second pair of pyjama pants she had stuffed over her first, she shivered.

Suddenly a worried thought pushed its way into his mind. There was a blizzard outside. The winds were blowing cold enough to push below zero. The snow was piling up on the other side of the window and would soon rise higher and higher. What if the heat never turned back on? What if...what if they died during the night? An article he had read had once described frostbite as as fast and painless as falling asleep.

He took a breath. "Come here." Jon said, bridging the chasm between them. He pulled Sansa’s body against him, wrapping his arm around her middle and nestling as close against her as was physically able. "It's for warmth." he said. Beneath his hands her body had gone still, not even a breath leaving her as he held her. "I'm not trying to..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It's just for warmth."

"I know." she whispered.

Sansa melted against him. Her feet swung back to press against his shins, cold even though the layers of socks she had donned. Her head lolled against the arm he had slipped beneath her pillow, her free arm laid on top of the one wound around her middle. It was warm once more, and it might even have been comfortable if Jon had not been so acutely aware of every curvature of her body.

She was pressed against him as close as the cloth of his shirt was to his chest. Her back curved against his belly, her body so firm against his own that he could feel the shift of her spine as she shivered in his arms. Her hips pushed back against his, the swell of her arse nearly indecent, as it pressed backward against his hips.

"I'm sorry." said Jon uncomfortably. He was glad that she was wearing two pairs of pyjama pants.

Her hair smelled like flowers. "Don't be."

His hands were rough against her skin. His fingers brushed briefly against the small sliver of bare skin between her shirt and her pyjama pants that appeared when she lifted her arms. She shivered. She blamed it on the cold.

In attempt to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation she spoke. "Is Ygritte coming next to the party?”

"No." he said, swallowing hard. "She um…we aren’t together anymore.”

Any awkwardness she might have rid them of had returned with a start. “I’m sorry.” She said gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

"It's four in the morning."

She shrugged against his chest. "I've got nowhere to be."

They spoke for what seemed like hours, Jon venting everything he had not even been able to profess to Robb. Sansa listened without interruption, turning her head to face him, her eyes illuminated in the darkness.

When he finished she spoke. "She was an idiot. To cheat on you, I mean. You're...you're special."

"Well thank you, mum." He teased.

She swatted at him. "I'm being serious, Jon. You're a good man. She just was too stupid to see that. If it had been me I would never have-" Sansa stopped at once, as though realizing what she had said. "I...I mean..."

"Shhh." Jon whispered. "I think we’re far passed the point of embarrassment.” He said. “And if we aren’t- the only person who should be embarrassed here is me.”

"You?" she repeated, aghast. " _You_?"

"I'm the one in bed spooning my best mate's sister while I've got a stiffy." He could barely finish the words before he burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. Soon she joined him- though the dull quivering of her body did little to lessen his embarrassment.

"I wasn't going to say anything." she promised. Her fingers danced across the back of his arm, the dull scrape of her nails against his arm making a long, low vibration run through his spine. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything." he replied. There was no space for hesitancy between them anymore, both emotionally and _literally_.

She took a breath, as though seeking courage in the icy air. "Why didn't...why didn't anything ever happen between us?" she said. "It’s not that I wanted anything to happen. We just..."

The arm that lay beneath Sansa's head had begun to fall asleep, filled with the pinpricks of a hundred pulsating needles. "Even if I had wanted something to happen...you were off limits. Robb made that very clear."

She chuckled. "Of course he did."

Jon grinned against the back of her head. He wondered if she knew how much he _had_ wanted something to happen. How much he wished he had been bold enough to be able to profess his love to her. How they had dated and loved each other and shagged until every bone in their body ached and hurt.

He took a deep breath, almost hoping that the air had been able to give Sansa confidence and that it would do the same with him. "Did you...did you want something to happen?"

She turned to look at him. Half of her face was illuminated in what little light filled the room, her eyes seeming to glow as bright and mischievous as a cat. "Once." she whispered. Even in such a low light she could see the blush lining her cheeks. "I went to see your band at Ros' pub. You were so..." she trailed off. Jon could feel her hips shift against his own and when pressed front to front it was far more difficult to hide his arousal. "The way you were singing...I wasn't surprised when I saw all those girls throwing themselves at you."

None of them had mattered to him. He had only had eyes for her. And she had never noticed. And to think that all that time she had been lusting after him when most of his songs were about lusting after her.

"I was going to go up to you after." she said. Just to say it aloud made her blush darken. She did not tell him how long it had taken her to choose an outfit, how many hours she had spent picking out her shoes and applying her makeup. "Someone beat me to it." Was he a fool to think her voice had darkened?

"Ygritte." he whispered.

She had been bolder than any woman he had ever known. She had pushed her way through the crowd to meet him at the bar, had leaned toward him, her eyes sultry, her lips pouted as she had whispered in his ear. She had pressed something in his hands and when Jon had looked down he had found that he was holding a pair of black lace knickers. She had grinned at him and had slid his hand down her back until he could feel just how little she was covered.

Sansa nodded. "I saw her...give you something."

Jon flushed deeply, glad that the darkness did not betray his blush. "I wish I would have known you were there."

"What would you have done?"

Her voice had grown low and pitchy. It seemed to reverberate in the darkness like an echo. "I would have..." he swallowed but could not seem to rid himself of the lump in his throat. "I would have..."

His eyes lingered on her mouth for a moment too long and before he could regain control of himself his lips had replaced his eyes. Her lips were cold and stiff at first, her eyes having gone wide with surprise. But she tempered beneath his touch, whatever hesitancy her lips might have had disappearing like snow thawed by morning light.

Her fingers were at his back, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt and pulling herself closer. Their legs had become a tangle of limbs, the firmness of her hips on his making a low gasp spring loose from his lips. Her fingers curled through his hair, his mouth hungry and grasping, feeling the skin of her lips, of her jaw, of her cheeks, beneath them the blankets a tangle.

Sansa almost thought that the heater had come back to life, for the heat cocooning them had grown so powerful. She had been able to feel his heat when they had curled close but as he slipped his shirt over his head he seemed to burn as hot as a flickering candle. His hands wound around her hips, the gentle scrape of blunted nails leaving her shivering.

She was suddenly bright with embarrassment at the knowledge that Jon had seen her in her frumpiest and most unattractive of all of her pyjamas. When she and Willas had slept together for the first time she had been wearing a skimpy black dress and a series of lingerie beneath that had made him choke on the beer he had been drinking.

And here she was, with Jon, wearing three layers of socks and a pair of year old long underwear that bunched slightly around her thighs and made her butt look lumpy.

"What are you thinking?" Jon asked. She realized with a start that she had frozen stiff, her mouth pressed to his neck awkwardly. "Do you want to stop?"

"No!" she said. "I just...I'm wearing...well _this_."

He nosed at her hair, the stubble of his chin scratching gently at her. "You could be wearing a grain sack and still be the most spectacular woman I’ve ever seen." he added with another warm kiss, "if it makes you feel better I'm wearing a pair of Bugs Bunny pants."

"It does make me feel better." said she, slipping her arms around his neck.

Her body was prone and warm and pressed firm to him. Her lips were as smooth and sweet as he had always imagined them to be. Beneath her hands she could feel the sculpted muscle he had developed after years of gangly awkwardness, the fingers that slipped down his belly feeling the ridges of muscle dancing with nervousness.

In a blink she was shrugging out of her jumper, leaving her bare save the warm touch of Jon’s hands as they brushed lightly across each of her bare breasts. She straddled him, her chest pressed against his, bare skin on bare skin, warm despite the lack of heat in the room.

She had never been kissed the way that she was being kissed now. It was hungry, strong, firm even, but the pressure that always seemed to be there when Harrold kissed her was gone. She knew Jon. She knew everything about Jon. From the day she had fallen through the ice on the lake beside Winterfell and he had jumped in after her to the night that he had appeared at her flat, to the way he had cried in her arms the night his father had died. He was Jon. Just _Jon_.

His body molded easily against hers but the rigidity of his body was not unwelcome. It had been months since she had been held so close. If she was truly being honest she had never been held like this.

Her lips were hungry and gasping, leaving a trail of warm, wet marks down his chest and belly, feeling every inch of him that she could reach. He moaned softly, his fingers threaded in her hair, bringing her face close to his.

“We don’t have to-“ he said, breathless, his chest heaving in a way she had never seen. The strain upon his voice proved just how little he wanted to stop.

“I want to.” She finished, curving her hips so that she was able to rub against him. He threw his head back in ecstasy, the feel of her body against his simultaneously soft and firm. “I don’t have a…a…” she couldn’t say the words.

For a moment Jon did not catch her meaning but he jerked forward with a start when he realized, moving so quickly that he slammed his forehead into hers. He apologized profusely but Sansa merely laughed, pressing her lips to his sore brow.

“I have…” he said. “My wallet. I think…in my wallet.”

In proved to be a difficult task in the darkness, scavenging for the small square of leather until Sansa procured it, pushing aside a pair of Jon’s boxers until she found it.

Having never been quick with the application Jon took the lead on the task before Sansa was able to return to her position in his lap. She shivered, having shimmied out of her pants and socks so that she was as naked as he, but the moment he reached up to take her into his arms she could feel a wave of warmth wash over her.

Jon’s arms were around her, his lips parted to envelop each pebbled nipple between them, leaving her to mean against the pleasure of his touch. He paused to press a kiss to the space between her breasts, an expression so tender that it made her gasp.

He sat up further, letting out a long moan as her nails raked gently across his back, the sound seeming to pierce her body like a stab before pooling fiercely in her belly and lower. She could feel his cock nuzzling gently against her, Jon parting her legs just a bit more so that she could comfortably house him. he pushed into her gradually, so slow that she could almost scream from the temptation of him pushing inside of her.

Her moan was muffled by his neck, her teeth scraping the underside of his jaw gently. His hands fell to her waist, guiding her gently until they were able to set and match a rhythm. She let out a long, low growl of a moan, feeling him push into her to the hilt, so completely filing her that she threw her head back in ecstasy.

She bit her bottom lip to hold in a sob, professing embarrassingly that Jon was the biggest she had ever had. He moved slower, pushing down the pride that build within his chest like a coursing wave, careful to move at a pace that would not hurt her. It took a few moments for her to grow accustomed to the feeling and Jon had just begun to wonder if he should her when she rolled her hips backward and his eyes rolled back into his head.

Her legs wrapped around his back, ankles crossed to hold her at a better angle, able to feel Jon push in and out of her. Her fingers raked through his dark curls, her forehead pressed so his as they writhed together. Her arms laid like a wreath around his neck, holding her close, his rough palms reaching down to cup her arse.

She nipped at his ear and it was only a moment more before Jon could feel the redolent heat that pooled in his belly proving that his release was quickly approaching. His hips snapped forward and Sansa’s mouth hung open, the hitch of her voice proving that her own release was at hand.

She threw back her head, red hair like a flame in the pure darkness. Jon’s tongue swirled around her nipple, his rough stubble scratching against her smooth chest as she met her orgasm headlong, quickly followed by Jon. He let out a strangled gasp so deep and rough that Sansa could almost feel her arousal begin to gather again, the contraction of her body against his leaving him panting with breathlessness.

They fell beside each other in the bed, this time abandoning all preamble of leaving space between them. Sansa rested her head upon his chest, her fingers tracing lazily through the dark hair on his chest. Her leg laid between his, the gentle nudge of her knee against his half hard cock teasing. He turned to press a sloppy kiss to her brow, feeling her lips quirk into a smile against his chest.

Despite the blizzard that ravaged outside the window Jon found he was glad for the unplanned stop and the unplanned confession he had made. It was a few moments more before Jon could once more see the motel sign begin to flash and when the heater clicked on again; Jon found that he was already warm enough.


End file.
